Between You and Me(20)

Laura gave a shrill, dry laugh at her own joke. It grated on Tess's last nerve. "Goodbye, Mother."

"Bye, darling! Be good, but not too good."

Tess ended the call and tossed her phone onto the far end of the couch  with a grunt of disgust. Her mother's words didn't bother her; she'd  learned to ignore them long ago. It was the general worry that crept in  once in a while, like now. What if Tess didn't know how to be a good  mother? She'd had the worst role model possible. Her plan was basically  to do the opposite of anything Laura had done . . . She hoped she'd be  good enough.

All she knew was her own child would never know the heartbreak, anxiety,  or disappointment of being abandoned by its mother. Growing up that way  herself, she wouldn't wish those feelings on anyone, and she'd  certainly never perpetuate them.

* * *

"Thank you, sweetheart." Annmarie smiled up at her son as he helped  lower her onto the couch. "Dinner was delicious. The chicken was  perfect, nice and juicy. You really can cook."

"Well, I learned from the best," Logan said, shooting her a little  smile. "Glad you liked it." For someone who claimed to like her meal,  she hadn't eaten much. He studied her as she made herself more  comfortable, shifting to stretch out and lie down. Her skin looked  drawn. She didn't look like she was in the final stages or anything, but  she didn't look good either. He frowned, then felt his brows furrowing  and schooled his features into neutrality. She wouldn't want to see him  frowning over her.

"I need to talk to you about something," she said. Her gaze was direct.

"Uh-oh," he joked, but uneasiness gripped his insides as he sat beside her.

"I've been thinking all week about this," she began. "Given this a lot  of thought. And . . . I've made a decision. I don't want to do the  radiation anymore."

Logan's heart dropped to his stomach. "What?"

"It's not working, honey," she said quietly. "All it's doing is  prolonging the inevitable. I'm tired. I'm tired of being so tired."

He shook his head vehemently, a hint of bile rising in his throat. "I'm not hearing this. No. No way."

"Logan-"

"Hell no. You can't stop, Mom. Just no."

"Why not?" She sat up and stared at him, a hard look on her face. "Logan. Honey. Look at me."

He did, even as his heart thudded in his chest and blood pulsed in his head.

"We've fought hard," she said quietly. "But I'm tired." She reached out and put her hand on his knee. "Sweetheart . . ."

"I can't have this conversation," he said, dropping his head into his hands.

"We have to."

"No, we don't." He looked at her again. "You keep fighting. You can't give up. That's it." He shot to his feet.                       
       
           



       

"You're not hearing me." She sighed.

"I'm picking you up at noon on Friday to take you to radiation, and  that's all there is to it." He scrubbed his hands over his beard and  added, "We'll talk to Dr. Cranston, discuss where we go from here, okay?  See what he thinks. But giving up just isn't an option."

She looked up at him sadly. "I've never been a quitter and you know it. But sometimes . . . you need to know when to call it."

"Really?" Suddenly angry, he started to pace the small living room. His  lungs felt tight, and his blood raced through his body. "When I tanked  my life-drank myself into a fucking stupor, lost my job, and my wife  left me-what did you do? You flew down to New Orleans. Told me to get my  ass in rehab. Paid for it, if I remember correctly."

"Logan-"

"You told me to keep fighting. I'd made a wreck of everything, and you told me Carters are fighters."

"This is different," she said.

"Not much," he said. "I was fighting for my life, and I didn't even know  it. You're fighting for your life now." He stood before her, stared  down, and tried not to let his panic show through, only his  determination. "You didn't let me give up. I'm not letting you give up.  End of story."

She met his gaze, unblinking. "You didn't realize you were killing  yourself," she said with quiet steel. "I know I'm dying, Logan. You know  it too. Maybe I want to do it on my own terms, whatever of those I have  left."

That made him stop cold. Waves of emotions crashed through him, a  mixture of fear, rage, hopelessness . . . "Fuck that," he spat. "We're  not calling anything yet. You hear me?"

She sighed heavily. "We'll let this go for tonight. I'm sorry you're this upset."

"What'd you think I'd be?" he cried. "How could I be anything else?"

"I haven't seen you this emotional in a long time," she admitted. "You  do such a good job of swallowing things most of the time, being all  stoic and sure. I forgot how fired up you can get."

He raked his hands through his hair and looked around, a bit wild. His  ears were ringing, like they used to when anxiety would sweep in and  take over. He steeled himself against it. "I'm picking you up for your  appointment on Friday, and you better be dressed and ready to go. Got  that?"

"Yes sir, bossy." She sighed and lay back down. "You want to watch some TV?"

"I want to shake you is what I wanna do," he growled.

"Go for it."

He huffed out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. His  stomach churned and his blood still pulsed in his head, the start of a  stress headache. But at least he didn't want a drink. That was a relief.  He rubbed his face and rolled his head around on his neck.

"Sit down, Thor," she said. "You never did tell me about New Year's Eve with that Tess. How'd it go?"

"I didn't tell you because I don't report my activities to you." His  grumble was good-natured as he sat down again in the armchair. He  willfully ignored the traces of adrenaline still shooting through him,  reached for the remote, and turned on the television.

"Throw me a bone here," Annmarie needled with a grin. "Did you kiss her at midnight, at least?"

The memory of their steamy kisses flashed through Logan's mind, sending a new rush through his veins. "Maybe."

"Damn, I hope so. You're cranky as hell lately. Need a good woman in your life."

"Says you."

"That's right. Now gimme." She held out her hand and he forked over the remote. "Are you going to go out with her again?"

He sighed. She was relentless. "Actually, we're going skiing tomorrow. Up on Ajax."

"Wellllll!" His mother's smile was both pleased and a bit smug. "Must've been some kiss at midnight, then!"

"She's just a friend, Mom," he cautioned. "Don't get all nutty."                       
       
           



       

"I've always been nutty," she said. "That ship sailed long ago, my sweet boy."

He laughed and sat back as she searched through the channels for the  show she liked. Glancing at her, he took deep breaths . . . flexing his  fingers, open and shut . . . The crisis had been avoided, but only  temporarily, and he knew it. His stomach churned for the rest of the  night.





Chapter Nine

Tess had forgotten how exhilarating it was to fly down the side of a  mountain at top speed. She hadn't been skiing in too long, and as she  pushed off yet again, the feel of the cold air rushing past her as she  sailed along the slope was invigorating. As kids, her brothers were  competitive with one another but doted on her, making sure she was a  solid skier and could keep up with them. Some of her best childhood  memories were skiing with them in Aspen, Vermont, Canada, and  Switzerland. She still loved the rush of soaring across the snow, the  closest thing to flying a human could experience. Few things compared.

And Logan was right beside her the whole time. He was a great skier, a  natural athlete-definitely better than her. Of course, he did it more  often. He told her flat out he'd all but grown up on the slopes and  still went skiing two or three times a month in the winter. Knowing  that, she was just glad she'd stayed upright most of the time after a  two-year lapse. The one time she'd ended up on her ass, Logan had  chuckled kindly and immediately shot out a hand to help her up.

The cloudy sky cut down on sun glare, but she'd still made sure to apply  sunblock and lip balm before putting on her gator. Her goggles made it  easy to steal glances at her gorgeous companion. Logan was sexy even  hidden under the layers of his royal-blue shell jacket and the gray ski  pants that hugged his powerful legs, a delicious bonus of inviting him  along. Even the way his thick hair poked out of the bottom of his wool  hat, fringing haphazardly past his strong jaw, appealed to her. In  between runs they chatted about the ski trips of their childhoods; she  told him about the annual trips with her father and brothers, and he  told her about how his family went skiing all the time, right there in  Colorado.